Smoke (Fiction 59: One)
He saw himself; scowling, sleep deprived, haggard, older.
What he saw drifted through leaden tufts of smoke, passing in and out of perception. And yet, how clear the glimpses were. How absolutely undeniable. How perfectly absurd. He saw himself; scowling, sleep deprived, haggard, older. The eyes rimmed and burning. He blew smoke to obscure the reflection; it surprised him every time. The smoke was comfortable, soothing even.
This ultra-short story has been written in preparation for the Chico News & Review's "Fiction 59" writing contest. Others will follow.